Of Demons and How To Chase Them
by snowdropped
Summary: When he receives a tip about a government conspiracy, Lavi, Investigative Journalist of The Order Times, looks into it with his eye wide open. It's part of the job (or maybe not) for him to find out things, like how politics and the supernatural never go together, or how far he is willing to go in the name of journalism, or the slippery concept that the laymen call feelings.
1. Chapter 1

**Of Demons and How To Chase Them**

* * *

Lavi's email inbox is full of new mail when he opens it first thing in the morning. He's still in bed, blankets tangled around his body, and the sunlight is barely shining in through the window. He knows it's a bad habit to be staring at a tiny screen this early in the day, but old habits die hard and he is a workaholic after all.

 _[TOT Lunch Banquet Invitation]_

 _[RE: Media Enquiry: Lemonade Production]_

 _[ADV: Adobe Photoshop CS6 At Discoun…_

 _[Story Tip-off]_

 _[For Media Release: Thousand-Year-Old Relic …_

 _[LinkedIn: Johnny Gill added you on LinkedI…_

 _[RE: RE: Rhenn Film Festival Nominees]_

 _[Synder Press Release: Founder of Synder Dies…_

 _[FW: Invitation for Dialogue with Minister…_

He scans the mailbox uninterestedly. Nothing particularly exciting, as always. Breaking news and their leads don't come in through email anymore since they have instant messaging apps now, but on occasion the media releases are worthy of attention and reportage. Other than the death of Synder's founder (Fidra Par, 74, founded the company with barely a hundred thousand dollars when he was fresh out of college), nothing seems particularly interesting today; he's not about to let the first thing he reads today be related to death – that's too morbid, even for Lavi.

He's almost closed his email app when he notices the shortest mail title.

 _Story Tip-off_.

Wow. When was the last time anyone used that nifty button on the Order Times' website to send in a tip-off to the Investigative Journalist, aka yours truly? Curiosity gets the better of him and he opens the mail.

 _To Whom It May Concern_

 _This is in regards to the recent spate of high-profile deaths in the private sector. I am an employee of a big company in the private sector, and have reason to believe that it is an orchestrated assassination by political powers with political agendas, rather than simply being a chain of unrelated deaths of natural causes. It would be great if you could look into it._

 _cichaphejo/at/thraml/dot/com_

 _IP: 104/dot/32/dot/847/dot/129_

Lavi frowns. The email is evidently a throwaway, and the IP clearly hidden. For all intents and purposes it is a fully anonymous tip-off, and is written seriously enough for him to not dismiss it as a troll immediately. Knowing how dirty the politics here play, he wouldn't be surprised at an orchestrated assassination.

But that also means that this is a tip-off that could end up in a huge mess if he isn't careful about what he does. If he's careless he might at best end up exiled from the country, at worst with his head on a platter, if he isn't dead yet. He bounces the information around his head as he gets out of bed and gets ready for work. He'll think about it later.

* * *

It's a busy day in the newsroom – he's sent out to cover an accident and vehicle pile-up on the freeway and the birth of an endangered red panda in the local zoo. It's almost 10pm by the time he gets back to his flat. His flatmate is probably working on a project, judging from the white light streaming through the gap under the door and the beat of music through the walls. He opts to not greet the other lest he disturb the other's work, and instead heads for his own room.

His room is neatly organized, with files packed full of news clippings and notebooks full of interview notes arranged on his floating shelves. Putting his bag down, he walks over to the files that are labeled **2016**. They are organized into different sections, so he turns to the news clippings under ' **deaths** '. He's looking through them when he realizes the email didn't tell him when the orchestration started, so he just grabs and goes with the news clipping that covered the most high-profile death that stands out in recent memory – Master Chang Zu Mei from Illusion Limited, six months ago. Covered by yours truly, thank you very much.

He grabs his interview notebook for **March 2016** and flips to his interview with Master Chang's son Edgar. Master Chang was one of the leading pioneers of the local prop-making industry, with a niche in weaponry. Many films and TV serials turned to Illusion Limited when they needed weapons or special props, and he had heard that Master Chang, formerly a professional martial artist, would personally give tips on how to wield certain weapons to make action sequences more realistic.

 _Founded Illusion 1975 movie ind… / heart atk - heart dise whole life… / Demons*- / Son, Edgar Chang Martin, 46, digital artist: "He insisted tt thr were demons cmg fr him before atk."_

He remembers being baffled when Edgar told him about the demons. The man held a PhD in Digital Design and 3D Animation and a Masters in Psychology from one of the top French universities, yet he sounded utterly fearful and convinced by his late father's dying words. Lavi had explained it away as Edgar being in grieving and not being fully in his right mind when he made the comment.

Demons? In this day and age? Lavi almost laughs at the memory. The only demons in this part of the universe are humans themselves.

(Of course, he'd left the part about demons out when he reported the story.)

Using Master Chang's death as the starting point, he draws up a list of all the high-profile deaths that have happened since Master Chang's death, and their cause of deaths.

It takes a lot of searching and scouring, but when he's done, he finds that there have been a total of 16 deaths of leaders of 16 private companies across different industries – from prop manufacturing, to electronics, to home appliances and furniture – just this past six months alone. It _is_ quite a high number, but there are no conclusions for him to draw from it. The clock reads 2am; he decides to sleep on it.

* * *

He's having lunch with Krory and Daisya, two of the News Desk journalists that he works with frequently. Even though Lavi's supposed to focus on Investigative Journalism, he fills in work at the other desks that need a hand when he's not on a case. More often than not, this means the News Desk.

Krory brings up the topic of demons when Lavi's picking at the pasta in front of him.

"You know, I covered Fidra Par's death yesterday and got an interview with his family," Krory says. Daisya is all ears but Lavi's only half-listening, his mind occupied. "His sister Rhode told me that he talked about being visited by demons" – Lavi perks up – "and that they were 'going to take him away', in the hour before his death.

"I would have thought she was in shock or not thinking straight, but it's my second time hearing the world 'demons' in relation to death this year," the tall journalist says thoughtfully. "When I interviewed Jake Russell's family, they said something similar as well. Isn't it weird? I've never known them to be the superstitious kind, but they seemed quite convinced that the deaths were demon-related or at least influenced by the supernatural."

Daisya's eyes are bulging. "Louis Fermi's family said almost the same thing. They said he was being haunted by a demon before he got the seizure… I asked if it could have been some kind of hallucination but they didn't think so. And the post-mortem didn't turn up anything strange."

Lavi's mind is a whir as the other two look at him. He nods – "Edgar Chang mentioned demons too. I just skipped the detail because it was so unbelievable. Maybe there's something going on here regarding the occult?"

* * *

After lunch and getting as much information as he can from Daisya and Krory – which is admittedly not much – he adds a note to the notebook ( **September 2016** ) that he carries everywhere he goes before heading to his Chief Editor's office with it and his printouts of whatever he's collected so far. Though how the occult ties in with politics totally beats him, the fact that four families have brought up demons and death in the same sentence means something might be going on.

When he enters, Reever Wenham takes one look at the notes in his hand and raises an eyebrow. "New case?"

Lavi nods. He hands the notes to Reever, and then settles down in the chair across of the editor. Reever's brow is furrowed as he looks at the print-out of the tip-off, then Lavi's preliminary investigation and his notes from lunch. He can almost see the cogs turning, the cost-benefit analysis that he is sure is going on in the editor's mind.

"You know how dangerous this story is, if there is even anything to it," Reever says at last.

Lavi nods.

"And you still want to chase it."

Lavi nods again. "Isn't that part of the job scope? Going places where nobody's gone, finding out stuff nobody knows. That's what I signed up for."

"The paper's image could be wrecked if it's really politically motivated and you mess up."

"I'll be careful. 'Sides, if it's corruption, the public deserves to know."

Reever frowns, but doesn't say anything to refute him. Lavi knows he's right. The media's role is to give the public the truth, as far as possible. It's what his entire job as an Investigative Journalist is built around.

"You do know I'm staking my job on a reporter who's only had three years out in the field, right?"

Lavi returns the look evenly. "We all gotta take some risks some times, don't we?"

"Three months, Lavi. Weekly updates. And the moment it seems that it's a false lead, I want you to stop following it."

"Gotcha," Lavi grins.

* * *

 _Good afternoon._

 _Thank you for your tip. We are considering following this story and conducting an investigation into it. Would it be possible for me to speak to you in person to find out more about this case?_

 _Best regards,_

 _Lavi  
Investigative Journalist, The Order Times _

Lavi prays with both fingers crossed that the tipper still has access to the throwaway email. After all, it's been almost two days since the email was sent to him. If the tipper doesn't reply – he shakes his head. He'll give them a day to respond. If there's no response, then he'll just have to do even more work and research.

He has an hour before he has to attend a groundbreaking ceremony for the new hospital in the city centre, and decides to spend it looking into the background and past articles about the dead. But there are so many news reports – which ones actually matter?

He thinks through what information he has at the moment. If politics have come into play, then they must have angered someone with political power, maybe by their actions or viewpoints. Satisfied, he takes that as a starting point and starts searching.

It's a guess that pays off – in the hour that he spends doing the background checks, he finds that a major common thread among the dead is that almost all of them had gone against or expressed objection towards government or trade union policies. Master Chang had voiced out against the government a total of five times, in one instance even hinting that the government wasn't caring enough for its citizens. Tupp Dopp of SDL had ignored the trade union's policy of reducing leave hours, and had insisted on keeping it constant over the years. Fidra Par had rejected an investment from a government-owned research institute in favour of another private company.

His discovery leaves him distracted for the rest of the day; His mind is only half-there as he listens to the Health Minister's speech about upcoming changes to medical policy, asks questions and jots down notes and rushes out the article in time for the print run.

Luckily for him, it's a slow news day and he reaches back home at 8pm.

* * *

Kanda is sitting at the dining table with a bowl of soba in front of him and a drawing tablet in his hand. When Lavi joins him, dropping his takeout dinner on the table, he grunts noncommittally but doesn't do anything beyond that. His attention is focused more on the tablet than on Lavi or his own soba, but Lavi starts talking and Kanda is forced to turn away from his work for a while.

"New commission?"

Kanda nods. "Some friend of the old man's, wants a painting of a garden to hang on his wall. Can't decide what flowers to draw."

They fall into conversation that eventually lapses into comfortable silence as they both eat and do their work. Kanda makes some sketches of a lotus flower; Lavi has his eyes fixed on Google. It's almost reminiscent of their high school and college days, when they would do homework and assignments over dinner.

"You're starting a new investigation already?"

Lavi is slightly startled from his stupor, both by the sudden question and the fact that Kanda actually _asked_. "Yeah, it's not confirmed yet but I'm probably going to be covering it for the next three months. Pretty messy case, I think. Politics and all."

Kanda doesn't prod further. He understands that Lavi's work is confidential until it's out in black-and-white, and he'll just have to wait till the story's published to find out anyway.

* * *

Lavi's accumulated quite a significant amount of information by the time he decides to call it a day. He's got solid evidence and published records that all but three of the dead were not exactly the most supportive of the government and its policies; he temporarily puts question marks on the three exceptions – they might be genuine deaths that have nothing to do with what he's investigating.

He's lying in bed, lights off, scrolling through his social media accounts. It's bad for his eye, even worse that he only has one eye left to wreck, but Lavi is a creature of habit. And habit also calls him to check his email before he sleeps, which he does. Work-life balance is pretty much an imaginary concept when it comes to journalism, anyway.

The first thing he sees is a reply to his email. He opens it and finds a coded message in the form of a scientific conference announcement. It takes a while, but Lavi has a brighter mind than most and eventually manages to decipher the message.

"Let's meet at Paldow Alley Station's concourse at 1pm on Saturday for lunch."

Saturday is tomorrow. He clicks his tongue at the email in quiet admonishment. _You were assuming I'm off work on Saturday, weren't you, not giving me a choice to say no at all. Good for you, I actually am off work._

He gets out of bed and writes the place down on a post-it note, making a mental reminder to himself to tell Kanda that if he isn't get home by ten tomorrow night, he should go into Lavi's room to retrieve this address. It's a dangerous business, being in investigations. One can never be too safe, so it's always better to have a back-up plan. For all he knows, this tipper might be someone who wants to off him; if he _is_ offed (if something _does_ happen to him), he wants to at least be found.

And it's not like it's the first time he's left such instructions for Kanda, anyway. Lavi may be young, but he's been doing investigative stories for almost as long as he has been at The Order Times. Reever once said that Lavi is meant to be an investigative journalist: his eidetic memory helps a lot with remembering details, and he's charming enough to easily disarm his subjects into trusting him without much effort.

Excitement is pulsing through his body when he goes to sleep, just like it does whenever he starts a new investigation.

* * *

This entire story was inspired by tlmcanpy and kandayuu on tumblr. They implanted me with the sudden urge to write a journalism!AU for Lavi and Lenalee, which led me here. Without these two, I wouldn't have this story. Many thanks and much love to the two of you! 3

Special thanks to Gunny who's helped me with my plot, inspired new ideas for the story, and betaed it for me. Nobody else would be able to bear the walls of text I send you on Whatsapp. You're the best!


	2. Chapter 2

Paldow Alley Station is right next to the upscale Paldow shopping district. Lavi arrives slightly before the arranged meeting time, making his way through the lunchtime crowd to the concourse area where they are supposed to meet. He's dressed in a plain collared shirt and a pair of black denim jeans, an outfit which easily helps him pass for one of the Paldow crowd but is at the same time flexible enough for him to comfortably move and break into a run if he so needs to. He already knows where the exits from the concourse are – there are two on his right, leading to opposite sides of the main road that bisects the Paldow shopping district, and one on his left, leading out to the entrance pavilion of Nagesine Mall.

He's leaning against a pillar, back slouched and pretending to read the novel in his hand, waiting for his tipper, when he sees her. She's in a black dress, dark green hair cascading down her back, an iPhone 6+ in her hand and a black handbag slung over her shoulder. Her heels clack in his direction with purpose, and he knows that this is who he's looking for.

As she approaches him, Lavi grows increasingly sure that this is a lady he wouldn't mind offering a drink to if he'd met her at a bar. She's stunningly pretty, with large violet eyes outlined with the slightest hint of eyeliner and mascara, high cheekbones and plump lips. But work is work, and he has no time to entertain such trivial thoughts.

She stops in front of him and smiles.

"Mr Bookman?" is the first thing out of her mouth.

He nods, somewhat surprised. That was not the greeting he'd expected. That she'd used his family name means she's done quite a bit of research on him, considering the lengths he's taken to hide information about himself online, and to Lavi's frustration he's reminded that he has no idea who this lady, though very pretty, is.

Basic etiquette kicks in, though, and he stretches out his hand for her to shake. "Please, call me Lavi."

"Call me Lena," she says in reply. "Nice to meet you, Mr Lavi."

There is a nagging tug in his stomach that tells him that Lena isn't her real name. It'd be a pain to find information on her if he doesn't get her real name, so that goes right on top of his mental to-do list.

* * *

They go for lunch at the famous Italian restaurant in Nagesine Mall, and a look at the menu makes him feel his pocket burning and reinforces his plan to claim the money for the meal from Reever when he's done with this story. He orders a ravioli, she a lasagna.

They make small talk as they wait for their food – apparently Miss Lena is childhood friends with the store manager and it's because of this that they have a private booth to themselves. They talk about the weather, and the recent inflation of the pound against the dollar, and how the subway broke down last Wednesday evening, and from their conversation Lavi is _certain_ that if he tried to pick her up at a bar, she'd turn and walk the other way. Her smiles are warm and she's on his level in terms of being a conversationalist, but the way she speaks is all business and it shows in her poise – shoulders firm and back straight.

Their food comes and the waiters finally leave them alone, closing the booth partition behind them after Miss Lena's drink is served. When the partition shuts, whatever conversation they had been having awkwardly tapers off.

She picks up her fork then, and asks him in that same polite, businesslike tone: "Can you prove to me your identity?"

He frowns but reaches into his pocket to pull out his reporter's pass. _**Lavi Bookman Junior, The Order Times, REG ID. 93874**_ , it reads.

Apparently satisfied, she shows him her business card. It bears a yellow double diamond-shape with a maroon center, which he recognizes as the logo of the private property developer CROW Organisation. The card reads: _**Lenalee Lee, Executive Secretary**_.

He quickly filters out whatever he knows of CROW Organisation. A company founded in the 1930s, historically owned and led by one of the former lesser noble families, the Lveilles. The current president is Malcolm C. Lveille, a man that Lavi has heard bears striking resemblance in person and personality to Adolf Hitler.

While as for Miss Lena's position… Executive Secretary. He furrows his brow, confused. Miss Lee looks like she's younger than him by a couple of years, but the position – she's working directly for the company's president. It's quite unheard of for someone so young to be so high up in the ranks, but he can't say it's entirely impossible. He adds it to the list of things for him to fact-check.

But there are things for him to do right now. He has to get down to business.

"Miss Lena, I guess you should know what comes before I can hear your side of the story," he says, giving her his own smile, bright and winning. "I'd like to get to know more about you first."

To her credit, her expression doesn't change, instead returning his smile evenly with a nod. He takes this as cue to ask the question that has been niggling at him since he got the tip. "Can you tell me why you're telling me whatever you're about to tell me?"

She considers the question, her fork suspended in mid-air in contemplative thought. Her next words are chosen with deliberate care.

"Human lives are being lost meaninglessly for selfish purposes. Would you be able to sit back and watch it happen without doing something about it if you knew?"

Point taken. But agenda is always a question every journalist has to consider.

"Then if I may be so rude as to ask, why are you working at CROW?"

"The pay is good, and my older brother is in poor health. We need the money for his medical treatment." Her face is carefully blank, a talent Lavi himself has mastered. Damn, she's a tough one to read, he thinks to himself.

"Do you enjoy your job?"

"It's fine. Mr Lveille isn't the best boss, but I can take it."

Huh. He can't detect any signs of lying in her body language at all. Her gaze and voice are both unwavering. As far as he can tell, she's being utterly honest. His gut tells him to let her continue, so he does. From experience, his gut instinct is rarely wrong.

He smiles. "Well, now we've got _that_ out of the way. Tell me your story."

* * *

He takes a while to absorb the information when she's done with the story. It's not much to go on, if he were to be frank. Suspicions and strange observations form the main bulk of what she's told him, and for all he knows it might all amount to nothing. But he's gotten this far already, no harm finding out more. Even if it's a false alarm, at least it would clear things up.

"So what do you think is a suitable course of action, Miss Lena?"

His mind is running through possibilities, but they all lead back to interviews with the parties involved, which he doesn't really think will bring him anywhere. Of course, there's the option of going undercover, but that is too risky even fo –

"Join CROW," she says bluntly. He doesn't even bother hiding the way his eyebrow shoots up in surprise, nor the way that suspicion is clearly written all over his face.

"You can't see anything if you're only looking from the outside," she explains. "I'm in a high enough position to approve entrance of new job applicants directly without going through HR, and the Executive Office could do with an extra hand. Maybe an intern, maybe an assistant secretary."

She's got a point, he admits. If it is indeed a conspiracy, he can't do it the traditional, safe way. Just asking won't bring him anywhere; he has to see it for himself.

A thrill runs up and down his spine and he wonders distantly why he is seriously considering her offer, given his cautious nature. He's never taken on an undercover investigation, which come far and few between anyway, exactly because of how dangerous and unpredictable they are.

But personal wishes aside, he knows there are many other things to consider. Reever's approval is one of them.

"Let me speak to my higher-ups," he says at last. "They have to give me approval before I can proceed."

She nods in understanding, then hands him a piece of paper and a pen. He looks at it blankly.

"I can't use my work number to contact you," she explains. "And I don't want to use my personal number. I'm asking a friend to help me get a prepaid card, so I'll contact you once I get it. I've abandoned the email already."

His eye narrows. _A friend?_

She must have caught the shift in his expression, because her face breaks out into a smile. It looks genuine enough, but he can never be too sure. "He's trusted. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"And how do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," she answers. "There's nothing I can give you beyond what I already have."

She's right – again. If he wants to find out the truth, whatever that truth may be, he has to do the dirty work and at the moment, she's the only key he has to any secrets that CROW is hiding.

"I'm not giving you my number on a piece of paper," he says at last. "Get another throwaway and send me your prepaid number when you get it. You know my email already, and my work email is encrypted."

She looks at him – really _looks_ – and he feels like she's trying to see into his soul with her violet eyes. She nods in agreement. "Fair enough."

They part ways, his pocket burning from the expense of the meal, but adrenaline bubbling in his stomach.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! As always, thank you Gunny for being my beta and putting up with my erratic writing schedules.

Thank you for reading, I'd love a review or two.

Also, we've gotten access to Lavi's notes on his investigations thus far. The link to it is in my profile description and the notes will be updated as the story progresses!


End file.
